So, I'm a tattooer. I've been a professional tattooer for 13 years, 10 of which is in an old-time street shop on the dodgy end of town. I've seen some shit go down, so when I say this is my worst day you can damn sure believe it.

So I'm working 7 days a week, but I usually do one of those "on call". I only live a couple of miles away and the boss calls me in if I'm needed. Last night I got the call as I was sitting down to dinner and head on over to the shop. My client is a middle aged couple who live a couple of hours away, in town for a weekend at the beach. She wants some flowers on her foot to fill a gap between 2 existing tattoos, so I spend about 40 minutes or so drawing them up and we finally arrive at the design. I get her the paperwork, she uses the restroom, I set-up everything and we get ready to do the tattoo.

About 5 minutes into the tattoo she apologizes and says she needs the restroom again. I get that hinkey feeling that I get when somethings isn't right (this is 10 minutes after her last trip to the bathroom). Now my station is a little small and I'm a big dude, so i'm sort of wedged into a corner with the tattoo chair taking up the bulk of the space in the center. She comes back and we start again. We have maybe 7 minutes of the outline and she asks for a break, she feels weird. Ok, no problem. I hand her a moist paper towel to place on the back of her neck and ask her if she wants to lie back for a couple. She belches, says "That was just a burp, i'm not going to puke" and then proceeds to projectile vomit all over herself, myself and the entire room. The ceiling had puke on it. I have a cork board behind me with drawings on it, the entire board was covered in puke. I had puke on my head, all over my shoulders (from a distance of about 3 feet mind you), it got into the pockets of my cargo shorts.

So this lady starts wailing and crying and leaps up screaming how pissed she is, she can't believe that happened, she's been waiting and waiting to get her tattoo. She runs into the bathroom. Now her significant other is career military, back home from the sandbox. I'm sure he's seen some shit and he's looking at me wide eyed. He says he can't believe that happened (yeah pal, neither can I) and apologizes and asks if he can clean it up. I walk out of the room shedding puke (it sorta looked like pineapple) and go get the boss. Meanwhile my clients comes out screaming and crying and saying she can't believe that happened to her, how pissed she is, how much she wanted her tattoo. I say "Well, you can imagine how I feel". She never once addresses me or apologizes to me.

They leave, I go home to shower, the boss cleans the shop. I wasted two hours and got covered in vomit and didn't make one thin nickle. Indeed, I tossed out around 50 bucks in materials and lost about 20 hours of drawings.

I go home and my wife expresses her sympathy while simultaneously laughing her ass off and gagging.

That's the kind of bad work day that puts other bad work days in perspective. Sorry to hear about your drawings. It sounds like a scene from an exorcist movie. I really hope she didn't have something like the norovirus, or your bad day will unfortunately last for another 3-5 days.